Beautifully Broken: If You Leave Part 22

Madison is p.u.s.s.y. Pure and simple.

She doesn't mean anything to me.

I don't care how many times her eyes turn soft when she looks at me, when they're normally jaded and worldly. I don't care how many times she calls me her own personal hero. I don't care that she's damaged on the inside, in a way that reminds me of Jacey-and of the damage that my father did to her. But Madison's damage is far, far worse than Jacey's.

And it's not my job to fix her.

I can't even fix myself.

I go through two cups of coffee while I wait for her on the sofa, as her "quick" shower turns into half an hour. But when she comes out dressed only in a T-shirt and panties, I'm wide awake without the aid of caffeine. I can see the outline of her perky nipples through her shirt and all my previous arguments about how little she means to me go out the window.

Especially when she looks at me with those soft eyes. Eyes that aren't soft for many people. It clenches my stomach into a f.u.c.king knot.

You can't trust me. But obviously I can't say that.

"Hey," I say instead. "Feel better?"

She nods. "Yeah. I stood under the hot water for a while. I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's OK," I tell her. "Seeing your nipples was worth the wait."

She smiles, her cheeks flushing. "Where do you want me?"

"Under me on the bed."

Madison startles, but then I laugh. "Under my hands. I just meant under my hands."

She smiles back at me, but tugs me to my feet.

"OK. I'll lie on my bed. Then we'll both be comfortable. I have to tell you something, though." She pauses and blushes, which immediately piques my interest. This ought to be good. "I'm pretty sore. Down there, I mean. So..."

I interrupt. "Don't worry. I can rub that too." At her look of utter chagrin, I burst out laughing. "It'll be fine, Maddy. I won't try anything. We'll be fine on the bed. I mean, if you can control yourself."

She turns around and walks down the hall. "I'm not the one who needs that talk. The little man there needs that talk."

As soon as I realize that she's talking about my d.i.c.k, I bristle.

"Hey, never, in any situation, should you call him 'little man.' The word little should never be used in conjunction with my p.e.n.i.s."

She laughs as she walks into her room and sits on her bed.

"Whatever. I don't think you really need rea.s.sured about your big size, army man. It's the reason I'm in the shape I'm in, and you know it." She's smiling, and I can tell she's sufficiently impressed.

"That's better," I grumble as I settle onto her bed. "You can use that word all you want."

A wicked gleam shines in her eyes and she flips onto all fours, crawling up over me.

"Big army man. I love your big muscles." She trails her fingers along my biceps, up and over the contours, following the line of my neck. She turns my face toward her and touches her lips to mine. She tastes like honey. "And I love your big... ego."

I roll my eyes, but hold her tight to me, my tongue tangling with hers again.

"What else do you love of mine?" I ask softly, dipping my head to kiss her neck.

"I love your big sense of humor," she whispers, her hands trailing over my shoulders. "And your big smile, when you choose to use it."

"And?" I whisper back.

Her eyes meet mine and hers are so f.u.c.king blue. She kisses me again and then sits on me, wedging her hips tight against my crotch. My d.i.c.k is rigid against her, rock-hard and straining against my underwear.

"I love..." she whispers, her lips touching mine. "Your big c.o.c.k."

I almost choke when she says the word. Not only does she say it, she places extreme emphasis on it. It seems so strange coming from her lips. But she's feisty. I knew that. And Christ, I love that about her.

But she means nothing, right? My own thoughts taunt me and I gulp as her hand drops down to my lap and her fingers rub the length of me.

I groan.

"You've got to stop," I manage to say. "Seriously. Before you kill me. If you don't want to f.u.c.k me, you've got to stop."

She laughs lightly and hops off.

"That was a fun game," she says, her eyes twinkling. "What do you want to play next?"

I drop a pillow onto my head and take deep breaths.

"You're a female devil," I tell her. "Seriously evil."

She only laughs harder. "You're the one who made me sore," she reminds me. "So just remember that."

A thought occurs to me.

"Turnabout is fair play, you little demon. On your belly. Now."

Good-naturedly she flops onto her belly and I straddle her slender form. I bend down and whisper into her ear.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's not going to be that easy. I'm giving you a ma.s.sage. You're going to have to take your shirt off."

Without saying anything or even looking at me, she strips her shirt off and tosses it to the side. She's not wearing a bra. Suddenly I can't decide if my punishment for her is going to be harder on her or on me.

She means nothing.

She means nothing.

I remind myself of that as my hands span the width of her back and I rub her muscles soothingly, her skin soft beneath my fingers.

My d.i.c.k doesn't get that memo about how little she means to me and how little she affects me. Because each touch makes me a little harder and with each stroke my d.i.c.k presses more and more into her a.s.s. f.u.c.king traitorous appendage.

I know Madison's acutely aware of it, but she doesn't point it out. She simply remains relaxed, facedown on the bed.

I move down to her feet and pick one up, rubbing every inch of it before I continue up her leg, up and over her knee and onward up to her thigh. I knead, pull and rub every inch of her. Up to her neck, down to the small of her back. Her breaths are coming in small little pants now and I smile. She's not as unaffected as she would have me believe.

And why does her body have to be so f.u.c.king perfect?

I slide my hands around her hips and pull her up just a little, as my fingers slide to the juncture of her thighs.

She inhales sharply and I smile again.

Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear, "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

And then I bury my fingers slowly inside her, moving in circles as I slide them in and out. I kiss between her shoulder blades as my fingers f.u.c.k her. Within minutes her body tightens up and she moans. When she falls limply back against the bed, she turns to me, her cheeks flushed.

"What was that for?" she asks, her eyes slightly gla.s.sy. "You know I can't have s.e.x with you right now."

She reaches for me, pulling me to her before she buries her face into my chest.

"I know," I say. "But since I've ma.s.saged it for you, maybe tonight?"

She giggles and nestles into me even tighter. "Maybe. If you play your cards right. For now, though, G.o.d, I'm tired from those stupid sandbags. Let's take a nap." She closes her eyes, but after a minute opens them again with a random question.

"Do you miss the Rangers? What rank were you?"

"Every day." My answer is immediate. "It's all I ever wanted to be. And I was good at it. I was a first lieutenant when I discharged."

"Wasn't there a way that you could've stayed in?" she asks, opening her eyes and looking up at me. "Somehow?"

I pause, stricken, but try not to show it. It's a question that I asked myself a hundred times before I made the decision to resign.

"No," I finally answer. "There wasn't a way. If there was, I would've done it."

"Are you happy doing what you're doing now?" she asks curiously.

I nod. "Yeah. I'm happy doing what we're doing because we're going to help other soldiers. Brand and I went through something s.h.i.tty. And if other soldiers don't have to go through that because of our armor, it'll make me real f.u.c.king happy."

She nods. "The thing you went through... is that part of the s.h.i.t you don't want to talk about?" I nod.

"Yeah."

Surprisingly, she lets it go. I stare down at her.

"What about you? Jacey told me that once upon a time, you were going to be a model or something. Are you happy here in Angel Bay?"

She's quiet and I know I struck a nerve.

Finally she shrugs.

"That wasn't meant to be," she says carefully. "Sometimes s.h.i.t happens, and all we can do is our best. This is my best."

I stare down at the gorgeous woman curled into my side. I might be obtuse about women but even I can hear the resignation in her voice.

"You don't have to stay here, you know," I point out. "You don't have to live this life if it isn't what you want. It's clear you don't want to be here."

Madison blinks, staring off into the distance. I'm not sure, but it seems like she might be trying not to cry.

"It is what I want," she finally answers. "I wanted to be near Mila. And even though she's leaving soon, Angel Bay is home. The restaurant is here and running it is my responsibility. And besides, you're here now."

You're here now.

My chest tightens and my stomach tenses up. Because I wanted to f.u.c.k her without strings, without worrying that I'd hurt her. Because I know that I will. She seems tough, but it's obvious that on the inside she's fragile. It's only a matter of time until I f.u.c.k up and she needs to know that.

"Maddy, me being here might not be a good thing," I tell her. "That s.h.i.t that you don't know? It's pretty ugly."

She nods, her hair brushing my chest.

"I figured it was," she agrees. "Or else you wouldn't hate talking about it. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're a good person on the inside, Gabe. That's why I'm so glad I figured out what you're really like. On the outside, you're this c.o.c.ky bada.s.s with a secret. But on the inside, you're good. I don't have to worry about you hurting me anymore."

She falls silent and I rub her arm as she fades into sleep. After a half hour or so, her breathing evens out and I know she is definitely asleep. That's when I finally answer her.

"Yes, you do," I whisper, before I carefully disentangle my limbs from hers and crawl out of the bed.

Chapter Thirteen.

Madison

I wake up from my nap, finding myself alone. I sigh, then stretch. A glance at my clock tells me that I've been asleep for an hour and a half. I rarely nap at all, so I must've been exhausted.

As my head clears I remember the flood. I leap from the bed and race to the living room windows, staring outside.

The water has made its way up to the wall of sandbags, and is lapping against it. For now, the sandbags are doing their job.

"It's going to be fine," Gabriel says from behind me. "It's holding nice and tight. As long as the water goes down in the next couple of days, it should be good."

I turn around. Like always, I think I could stare at him forever. He's not perfect in a male-model kind of way. He's perfect in a rugged, s.e.xy-as-h.e.l.l kind of way. Masculine. Powerful. Strong.

"What?" he asks curiously as I stare. I shake my head.

"Nothing. Did you find things to do while I took a nap?"